


Rain

by Stellabella13



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Gay Sex, M/M, Mind Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 22:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7732156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stellabella13/pseuds/Stellabella13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Joker never did like the rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

God. He hated rain. He absolutely despised it, and yet, he couldn’t help himself, the longing tug in his stomach wanting to feel the cool drops pitter patter softly onto his face. He forced himself away from the window. It was rather silly to get distracted by such a pathetic matter. The fact that he wanted to run down the street, arms wide open and jaw slack to catch any stray droplets on his tongue bothered him. He was simply getting off track, and his green eyes slowly trailed over the map of Gotham he had built over the span of five months. Strings of all the colours were pinned from location to location and there were so many it all just became a jumbled mess of string and thumb tacks. It hung on the wall opposite his desk, and he threw himself into his wheelie chair, beginning to spin around and around as he tried to clear his head.

 

His thoughts wandered back, as they always eventually did, to the over sized bat that always managed to spoil their games. He pouted. Batsy was such a party pooper, never wanting to play along or join in. So ungrateful. After all, all the games he created were for Gotham’s hero, and Gotham’s hero only. He never planned games so carefully when it came to anybody else. Old Batsy should be flattered.

 

He found himself playing with his trusty knife, twirling it up and then catching it. He barley noticed the sting when he tried grabbing it too soon, but he watched with amusement as the crimson blood beaded along the cut before sliding down the length of his palm. He stuck his wounded finger into his mouth and sucked thoughtfully. Truthfully, he was bored. So very bored. Batsy and himself hadn’t had a playdate in a while, and he felt slightly hurt. Sure, he hadn’t exactly done anything to catch the bats attention, as he had been good and had kept his hands to himself (including his knife), but he felt as if the caped hero should still have hunted him down or something. He sighed and pulled his finger from his mouth with a pop. Perhaps he would have to cause some sort of scene, as he was certain another day of this would kill him.

 

He couldn’t exactly rob a bank. His men had decreased significantly in number and the ones that had stuck around were too weary, acting like beaten dogs every time he came near them, nearly wetting their pants as soon as he bothered sparing them a glance. He snorted. _Pathetic._ He couldn’t really take anyone hostage; unless he snagged somebody off the street, but it had been done so many times before. He could blow something up, and then his eyes lit up, and his lips twitched. No. He wouldn’t do any of that. He would do something unexpected. That was sure to send Gotham into chaos.

 

* * *

 

 

Bruce had just settled down with a cup of coffee when he got the urgent call.

 

“Batman! I-it’s the J-Joker!” Bruce let out a long sigh and regrettably set his cup down.

 

“What has he done this time?” Bruce hadn’t heard anything from the Joker in a while, and just the previous day he had been wondering when the crazed clown prince would strike again. What _was_ he doing this time? Explosives? Hostages? Robbing banks? All three?

 

“Nothing.” The voice from the other end crackled slightly. Bruce froze.

 

“Nothing?” He repeated, not quite sure he had heard correctly.

 

“Y-yes. Nothing. He’s in the Starbucks on main street, buying a caramel latte. He doesn’t seem to be armed and he hasn’t done anything dangerous, but people are panicking and my men are too afraid to try and close in on him.” The head of police confirmed.

“Alright.” Bruce sighed. “I’m coming.”

 

* * *

 

 

The entire Starbucks had emptied when Batman finally arrived, and he swung the swinging glass doors open to find the Joker sitting calmly in a booth, sipping hot brew from the white paper cup. News paper reporters and all sorts of people were crowded outside with phones and cameras, each one holding their breath as police tried to keep them away.

 

“Joker.” Bats growled, and the clown gave him a grin as the larger male stalked forwards. “What are you playing at?”

 

“I’m just having a coffee, Batsy.” Joker replied, setting his now empty cup down and stretching, cracking his long slender fingers.

 

“No. Its never that simple.” Batman hissed, clenching his fists. What the heck was going on?

 

“Oh, but it really is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.” The clown dropped some coins onto the table top for a tip and stood up. He was not at all surprised when Batman grabbed a tight hold of his arm, swinging him away from the door and nearly into another table. Joker cackled; he wasn’t actually planning on leaving, he knew the bat wouldn’t let him. His shoulders were clutched and he was lifted up and off his feet.

 

“The only way you’re going is the way to Arkham.”

 

“Mm, yeah. See that’s what I can’t let happen.” Joker wiggled his shoulders and nearly lost his balance when he was released. He laughed as Batman glared. “I haven’t done anything bats.”

  
“Exactly! What are you playing at?”

 

“I’m playing my game.” Suddenly he pouted and stomped a foot childishly. Batman took a step back in surprise at the childish action. “And it’s no fair because you just won’t play it with me!” He narrowed his eyes at the Bat. He pointed an accusing finger and huffed. It was still raining outside, and the crowd had at first tried sticking around, but soon it became heavy down pour and the people quickly scattered. Bats and Joker were tucked in a corner anyways. Nobody could see them. Batman didn’t know what to do. Joker and thrown himself onto a stool in frustration. “And I keep trying, god dammit!”

 

“You think this is a game?” Batsy was clearly unimpressed.

 

“Of course it’s a game my dear old Bats.” He hopped from the stool. “It’s always been a game…” He was suddenly pinned against the wall, a painting rattling as his purple gloved hands shot up to wrap around the hand wrapped around his throat.

 

“Killing people, is just a game? Blowing up buildings, causing millions worth of damage, robbing banks and terrorizing people is just a game to you? Fucking answer me!” Yikes. Bats never resorted to such profanity.  He sure did have a pissed off hero on his hands.

 

The joker wheezed, and beneath his paint he felt himself turn blue. He tried opening his mouth but he could only gargle.

 

“My game has no rules.” He managed, and was squeezed even harder. He really and truly couldn’t breath. He managed to laugh, but it came out like a weak splutter. Black dots were beginning to dance in his vision and he could just see the anger blazing in old Bats eyes. “Go on, Batsy,” He choked. “No rules.” He collapsed to the ground as he was let go off, and he spluttered and coughed, a great purple hand print forming on the pale white skin of his neck.

 

Batman looked horrified. He had almost broken his one rule…

 

“Fuck you.” He hissed. Joker was staggering to his feet, using a table for support as one hand gently caressed the prints.

 

“Oh Bats,” Joker was disappointed. “You were so close.”

 

“I don’t kill.” The hero growled. Joker coughed.

 

“Why won’t you just play the game?”

 

“I want nothing to do with your sick messed up ways. Your game disgusts me.”

 

“Attata,” The green haired man scolded. “Our game, Batsy. It was never just mine.”

 

“You disgust me.”

 

“I disgust many. Is it the scars?”

 

“Joker, this has nothing to do…”

 

“You wanna know how I got them?”

 

Batman growled as he slammed the Joker to the ground.

 

“Quite it.” He hissed. Joker did not. He stared up at the man above him and sighed.

 

“I was in love you see. So very in love with a beautiful, beautiful woman. She was my life. My entire life.” He wiggled beneath the Bats stony gaze. “I did everything for her; and I thought she loved me too, until I found another man in our bed, the very bed that I slept in each night. He ran as soon as I opened the door. Never saw him again.” His tongue shot out and wet his lips. “Turned out she had been unfaithful for a while, and in a fiery rage, I killed her.” He let loose a hysterical cackle as Batman shifted uncomfortably. “I killed her, and as I saw her blood on my own hands, I felt regret, and heart ache, and oh. Oh how it hurt. I was depressed, never the same, until one night, as I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, I noticed her razor still sitting beside the sink. Blinded, caught in the moment, I stuck the blade in my mouth and did this, so that I would always be smiling, and never be sad ever again. She always made me smile before. I was going to prove to them that I could smile without her.”

 

By this point Batman had gotten off of him, and Joker was sitting up, massaging the back of his head.

 

“Stop it.” Bats demanded.

 

“She had been my light, mine, and I chose when to extinguish her flame.”

 

“Stop it!”

 

“Look at me Bats! I’m still smiling!” His laughter echoed throughout the café, and not even the clapping of the thunder outside could drown out his hysterical cackle. He closed his eyes, threw his head back, and laughed. It felt so good, to see Batsy slowly break down. It was what he wanted. He wanted to take the other apart, just to see how he worked. The Bat was backing away.

“Common Bats,” Joker suddenly stopped laughing, a mad grin still stretching his lips. “Why. So. Serious?”

 

The sound of the café door banging stung his ears as he began cackling again, sitting now alone in the café as the storm howled outside.


End file.
